


The Magic Lamp

by foxyx



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Alcohol, Alternate Canon, Birthday, Coercion, F/M, Firsts, One Shot, References to Drugs, Roughness, Sexual Content, Smut, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:14:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26542747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxyx/pseuds/foxyx
Summary: It's Hermione Granger's birthday in her final year at Hogwarts. The girls take her out for drinks to celebrate, and Hermione has a little wish of her own that she hopes a certain professor can fulfill.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 40
Kudos: 306





	The Magic Lamp

When day broke early that Saturday morning, Hermione thought it would have been the obnoxious chirping of birds or blinding rays of sunshine peeking through her curtains that would have awoken her. Instead, her dearly-loved roommate Lavender was the one to take on that role; it was the not-so-gentle nudging and repetition of her name being called out that made Hermione slip out of whatever dream she was having about some big blue floating guy, and attempt to pry her heavy eyelids open.

The sudden slapping of her cheek was a bit much.

“Alright, alright, I'm up,” Hermione grumbled, rolling over and swatting Lavender's hand away as if it were nothing but a pesky Billywig.

With her vision progressively shifting back into focus, she tilted her head back against the pillow and squinted up at Lavender Brown, who was standing and grinning widely over her, accompanied by Parvati Patil and Ginny Weasley not much further behind. They were all still wearing their pyjamas, clearly having just woken up themselves.

“Lavender... What – ”

“Happy birthday, Hermione!” Lavender shrieked, bouncing up and down with something bright and shiny clutched in her hands.

Hermione's eyes shifted at once to the object in question, and realization soon dawned on her. 

“That's not...?”

“This is for you!” Lavender belted out, putting Hermione's unfinished question to rest. “Sorry it's not wrapped, I didn't want it to get all crumpled up,” she said, holding the garment up so that Hermione could get a better look at it. While it was no Yule Ball gown, it certainly wasn't your average summer dress either. It represented their house well with its rich, crimson hue and shimmering flecks of yellow, as the morning light reflected against tiny sequins woven into the material.

Hermione's mouth fell open. She'd had a suspicion the girls were planning _something_ , but this was...

“Come on, get up! We've got work to do!”

Hermione didn't have much say in the matter when Lavender proceeded to physically drag her out of bed and leave further explanations for later.

It wasn't much later before she found out that Lavender's idea of 'work' varied greatly from her own, when she was shoved into the communal shower with a razor and an assortment of heavily-scented soaps.

After going through her usual routine and saving her legs for last, Hermione lathered up and took extra care to do the job well, versus the shoddy job she normally did in a rush. 

It really wasn't much of a surprise that the girls had been planning on taking her out; ever since the moment just before summer, when it was casually brought up in conversation that she'd never been intimate with someone, Lavender and Parvati had quite literally pounced on her with pleas to fix her up. When it was mentioned that she'd prefer to wait until her final year, the furtive glances that both girls exchanged were, in fact, not-so-furtive.

Stepping out of the shower several minutes later in what felt like a brand new body, Lavender was there at the ready, ushering Hermione over toward the sinks to acquaint her with her massive makeup collection next.

With all three girls assisting at once – Lavender on make-up, Parvati on nails, and Ginny on hair – Hermione wondered briefly if this was similar to how brides felt getting ready for their big day. She found it a little excessive for something as insignificant as her birthday, but slapped on a grin and appreciated the effort nonetheless. After all, it would be the last one she'd ever have while attending Hogwarts, so she might as well go all out.

“Doesn't she look amazing, girls?” Lavender said, clapping her hands together and taking a step back to admire their handiwork in the mirror once the transformation was complete.

The other girls expressed their approval while Hermione took that moment to examine it for herself, hardly recognizing the girl – no, _woman_ – staring back at her. She wouldn't put it past Lavender to figure out her measurements; it hugged her torso in a way that was nothing short of flattering, rippled loosely past the waist, and exposed just enough skin without forsaking her modesty. 

While it wasn't a look she'd incorporate into her everyday life, she couldn't ignore the fact that the boost of confidence she gained from it was incomparable.

“I love it,” Hermione beamed, twirling around to give them all hugs.

“Go on – head on down to the Hall,” Ginny nudged, grinning. “We'll catch up with you in a bit.”

After being shoved out of the bathroom by the insistent red-head, and donning the pair of pointed black heels that she kept under her bed for special occasions only, they clacked against the hard wooden steps as Hermione made her way down the spiral staircase and into the common room. 

The thought of what her two best friends might think had completely slipped her mind, right until moment when she spotted them sitting on the sofa by the fire, both their heads already turned in her direction thanks to the personal fanfare attached to her feet.

“Wow, it looks even better on you than on the mannequin!” Ron said, with a kind of a surprise that was more insulting than complimentary.

Her footsteps now muted against the large hearthrug stretched across the floor, Hermione had a somewhat suspicious look on her face as she plodded across it to join them.

“Don't tell me you were both in on it too?”

“Nah, not really,” Harry said. “They just asked us to go have a look at the options. Something about wanting a male opinion,” he shrugged.

“We've got your presents here,” Ron said, reaching across to the coffee table and lifting up two flat, square-shaped gifts that she didn't even need to unwrap to know that they were books.

Grateful nonetheless, she thanked her friends for the gifts and the three of them proceeded to leave the common room together, making Hermione silently curse her choice of footwear even more as the tapping resumed – the school's grand staircases and vast hallways only amplifying the resonance of each step, earning her turned heads and long stares from anyone in the vicinity.

When they eventually cleared the final landing and turned right at the corner that led them directly into the entrance hall, Hermione was able to let out a sigh of relief. The worst was over with. 

Or so she thought.

“Potter! Weasley.” 

Hermione froze. She knew that venomous voice barking at them from behind. And it mostly certainly knew her, even if it failed to openly acknowledge that for whatever reason.

“I expect you have somehow managed to obtain a permission slip to bring in your little gues – ”

It was as the three of them spun around in unison that the owner of the voice came to a dead stop just a few feet away, at which point realization very clearly sunk in. 

“Miss Granger.” The slight wobble of his Adam's apple and the unmistakable way his dark eyes swept her up and down was evidence to the fact that he obviously hadn't recognized who she was until just now.

“Good morning, Professor,” she greeted with a genial smile.

The frown he responded with anything but. 

“What is all this?” he spat, gesturing vaguely at her with a wave of his hand.

“What is all what, sir?” she asked rather innocently.

His eyes narrowed and he shot her a look rife with disapproval. “Don't play coy with me. You know precisely what I am asking.”

“It's her birthday!” Ron butt in defensively.

“Ah.” He cocked an eyebrow at the audacious ginger before tipping her a mock bow. “Apologies, _Your Majesty_ , I was not aware that it being your birthday entitles you, not only to dress like royalty, but to also have servants that speak on your behalf.”

Hermione hoped the sudden burning in her cheeks didn't look half as bad as it felt. 

“I – It was a gift from the girls. They're taking me out today, since it's my last birthday at Hogwarts.”

“Good for you,” he oozed, returning to his rod-straight demeanor, his eyebrows now dipped so low that they nearly covered his eyes. “It would do you well to remember, then, that any misconduct, regardless of your date of birth, is still subject to the same penalties as any other ordinary day. In fact, given the _wondrous_ occasion in particular, one might find themselves even more susceptible to certain infractions.”

Hermione could only bite her tongue and nod politely in acknowledgement before he allowed the three of them to carry on toward the Great Hall. Thankfully, Harry and Ron followed in her lead and didn't say anything else that could potentially dock off house points. The fact that he let them off the hook with so much as a warning was probably the best version of a _Happy Birthday_ she could ever hope to receive from the Potions Master.

* * *

“I can't believe they aren't letting us come with you,” Ron grumbled from their spot at the Gryffindor table, shortly after Lavender, Parvati, and Ginny had appeared to join them for breakfast, all decked out in nice outfits of their own.

“They just really want to have a girl's trip,” Hermione explained briefly to him, purposefully omitting the fact that having two guys flanking her sides all night probably wouldn't do her any favours in the approachability department. And it wasn't as though she had actually confided in them with her intentions for the evening; most things she would feel quite comfortable telling them, but for some reason this just wasn't one of those things. “We'll still have all of tomorrow to do our own thing,” she reassured him.

After a few pieces of toast and sips of orange juice later, Lavender was motioning for them to set out from across the table, so Hermione got up and crawled over the bench, making a conscious effort to do it as modestly as she could in her fancy new dress. Giving both boys a small smile and a wave before spinning around, she set off quickly to catch up with the three girls, purposely avoiding eye-contact with any potential on-lookers along the way.

They couldn't have possibly gotten any luckier with the weather that mid-September day; if summer was on its way out, it was clearly determined to do so with a bang. Small tufts clouds dotted the otherwise deep blue sky; a warm, comfortable breeze accompanied the group of girls as they strolled leisurely around the cobble-stone village, dipping in and out of shops, and stopping for breaks at cafes.

By the time the sun was just beginning to sink behind the trees, they were seated out on one of the restaurant's outdoor patios, having just finished dinner. After already making a head start on the drinks while they were there, Lavender soon suggested that they keep the momentum going by hopping over to the pub. Once they settled up, they hobbled out of the restaurant and sauntered down the street, already feeling pretty good. Having not really been paying attention to where they were going until Lavender motioned for them to turn down a corner that she'd never been before, Hermione's face scrunched up in confusion at the girl's back.

“Um, Lavender, the Three Broomsticks is that way – ”

“Oh, we aren't going there,” Lavender dismissed with a wave of her hand, not breaking her stride. “Too many familiar faces. The Magic Lamp is so much better!”

Hermione only knew of the place by name, and soon found out why. As the four of them cut through a dark, narrow alley, crossed through a hidden courtyard surrounded by towering stone walls, and then slipped down an even narrower alley, they eventually reached an area that appeared to be just along the outskirts of the small village. A large graveyard covered most of the area, save for a dingy little pub nestled right beside it, doing quite a fine job at fitting in with the lacklustre scene – not much unlike the Hog's Head. Hermione assumed that one must've been out of the picture for very similar reasons.

“All the locals go here,” Lavender said proudly – as if let in on some sort of exclusive secret – and led them all without hesitation toward the dank, battered entrance. Hermione shared a wary glance with Ginny from behind, but neither of them said a word.

A small amount of relief swept over, however, when they pushed their way in through the front entrance, revealing a dimly-lit interior that was much more welcoming than its external counterpart. The space was already buzzing with patrons, despite the false illusion that the deserted street outside had provided. Thick clouds of smoke hung in the air, assaulting her senses and blurring her vision – something she wasn't overly keen about and would have been far less prevalent at the Three Broomsticks; but it wasn't worth fussing over, for she knew it was only a matter of a few more drinks before it would all blend in with the background anyway.

“Come on, I'll get the first round!” Lavender said, waving everyone forward as she made a beeline for the bar. 

People were eyeing her up and down as she squeezed past them – men, mostly. Hermione tried to sneak a few good looks at some of them to field them out, and while they weren't exactly the ghoulish crowd she would have expected, none of them particularly struck her fancy either. With that in mind, she made a conscious effort not to maintain eye contact with any of them for _too_ long, lest any of them get the wrong idea. Glancing over at Ginny, she appeared to be along a similar wavelength. Hermione knew the girl was really only keeping an eye out for her own benefit, however, for she was privy to the knowledge that Ginny had recently been cosying up with Pansy Parkinson behind closed doors.

“I'll go find us a spot,” Parvati piped up, branching off from them and disappearing into the crowd.

“Okay, birthday girl, what'll it be?” Lavender turned to ask her, giving the bar's sticky surface an emphatic slap once they finally pulled up in front of it.

“Well, I was really enjoying the elderflower wine we were having, how about we just stick with that?” Hermione suggested. Not being much of a drinker, elderflower wine was pretty much her go-to in any occasion. 

Lavender whirled back around to the bartender and promptly ordered two bottles of elderflower wine, four glasses, and four shots of something that Hermione had never heard of before.

While they waited for their drinks to be ready, Lavender turned back around and gave the room a quick sweep with her prowling eyes. “So, what do you think? Anyone catch your eye yet?” she asked with a cheeky grin.

But Hermione only shook her head and smiled sheepishly. “No, not really.”

Lavender pulled a face and gave a half-hearted shrug. “Fair enough. It's still early. Everyone knows the good ones like to be fashionably late,” she said with a wink. 

After receiving their drinks, the three of them ventured off in the direction they last saw Parvati veer off in, finding her not too far off near one of the high tables. The other end of the round table was occupied by a group of three men, but thankfully there was just enough space for them all to fit.

“I hope you don't mind – these guys said it's alright for us to share,” Parvati said.

“It's perfect! Hi, I'm Lavender,” Lavender said, grinning wildly as she moved at once to start introducing herself to each of them.

Hermione took that moment then to examine them all. They each shot her similar looks she'd been getting from many of the other gazes in the room, but it was when she made eye-contact with one of them in particular that a small smile crept up on her face. He'd definitely been the most handsome one she'd seen so far – dark-haired, slim, and rather smart-looking. Just her type. 

The polite manner in which they all took turns going around the table introducing themselves was not one to be sustained, for the minute they began drinking, to the minute Ginny was the first one to accidentally spill her drink, Hermione, in her unstable state, had come to learn three important things about the man ogling at her from across the table: his name was William, he was somehow growing even more attractive throughout the evening, and Hermione was pretty sure she'd be spending the rest of the night with him.

“So, William's pretty cute, huh?” Parvati eventually brought up, scooting her stool over to Hermione the instant said man excused himself for a quick bathroom break, and leaning in close so as to be heard over the loud chatter and background music.

“Yeah, I suppose so,” Hermione admitted, taking another sip of her drink and letting her eyes wander around the room to distract herself from the blush creeping up on her face.

“You know who he reminds me of?” 

When Hermione reluctantly returned her attention to the girl, she knew she ought to be wary of the mischievous smirk on her face, but no amount of forewarning could have prepared her for what she was ultimately about to say, when she leaned in even closer to her and choked out the name, “Professor Snape.”

Hermione's knee-jerk reaction to that was so strong, she had to quickly slam her drink back down onto the table after accidentally spilling half of it all over her hand. 

“What?!”

“I mean, come on!” Parvati recoiled, rolling her eyes. “Don't tell me you don't see it.”

“I... I...” Hermione spluttered, flicking her hand around in an attempt to shake off the mess, her eyes going back to looking anywhere but at Parvati – she spotted Lavender with her arm hanging over on of the boys' shoulders, talking exuberantly about something; Ginny, she gathered, must have still been outside, accompanying one of the other boys on his smoke break. Seeking an immediate escape, Hermione promptly slid off the stool. “I better go clean this up,” she said, trying to excuse herself as politely as possible, while edging her way out from the table with less grace than she would've liked.

“Ooh. Say hi to William for me!” Parvati called out from behind.

Not only did she say hi to the man when she ran into him on his way back from the men's room, but she also tried very hard not to find features that would validate Parvati's comparison of him to her professor. After telling him to wait there for her, Hermione quickly cleaned herself up in the bathroom, and upon returning, suggested they grab another drink at the bar. As she'd hoped, this led to them standing separated from the group for a while, giving them a better chance to have a more private conversation free of interruption.

As the evening wore on and time became even more non-existent, Hermione was right in the middle of cracking up at one of William's anecdotes about a troll and a puffskein when she felt a light tug on her arm. Spinning around and feeling the room tilt sideways, Hermione swayed a little as Ginny pulled her aside.

“Hey Hermione, I think I'm going to head back to the castle now,” Ginny said, leaning in and speaking into her ear as Parvati had done. “Are you... I mean, you're welcome to come with me, but I don't want to take you away if you're still having a good time.”

Hermione suddenly felt conflicted as her eyes darted back over to the man left standing alone. If it weren't for her determination to shed herself of the inexperience still weighing heavily on her as she was about to advance forward in every other aspect of her life, she would otherwise be more inclined to retire for the evening. But, with her senses and priorities skewed, and the man standing over there, looking more enticing than ever as he ran a hand through his long, dark locks, it was hard for Hermione to rationalise a decision.

“No, you know what,” Ginny spoke again, when there was too long of a delay in Hermione's response, and gave her an encouraging slap on the shoulder, “you should totally stay. “

Hermione's head spun back around to look at her – many versions of her – with mild alarm. “You really think so?”

“Yeah,” Ginny said, smiling. “It'll be good for you. Plus, Lavender and Parvati are still here... somewhere...”

Following Ginny's eyes as they wandered around the room, Hermione realised at the same time that their other two friends seemed to have disappeared somewhere. She'd been so busy chatting up William, she couldn't even remember the last time she'd seen them. There were so many bodies in the room by this point, however, they could just as easily have been hiding behind any of the tall heads. Although, the little voice inside Hermione's head – the one that knew they'd been hoping for a new, joint venture of their own – told her they may have already gone and found themselves a lead.

As her search doubled back to William, Parvati's earlier analysis rang through her head.

“Hey, do you think...” She whirled back around, about to ask Ginny what _her_ opinion was on the similarities between William and Snape – but, in wishing she could go back in time and unsee it herself, decided it best not to burden Ginny with this discovery. 

“No, nevermind,” she said, brushing it off like it was nothing.

“I'll see you tomorrow,” Ginny said with a suggestive wink, reaching forward and pulling her into a tight hug.

Only once Ginny was completely gone from sight (after struggling to manoeuvre through the swarm of bodies) did Hermione turn her attention back to William, nearly losing her footing as she hobbled back over to him.

“Have you... have you seen Lavender and – um... Parvati?” She was finding it very hard to concentrate.

“Oh, they were just over there talking to some lad a moment ago,” he said, looking in the direction he was referring to. “I'm sure they're fine,” he added after turning back and undoubtedly noticing the concerned look on her face. The confident, reassuring smile on his face gave her no reason to doubt it, but she couldn't help but feel as though something was a little off.

“Come on, let's get you another drink,” he suggested eagerly, placing a soft hand on her back and carefully ushering her over toward the bar. 

Hermione wasn't sure she could actually handle any more drinks without losing all functionality, but didn't want to insult the man, so she accepted it with a gracious smile as it was handed to her. 

“To your birthday,” William cheered, grinning widely as he held his glass up to her. Hermione lifted her own glass to clink against his before tipping back the contents without a care in the world.

Before the sweet liquid could so much as touch her lips, however, a whirl of something dark swept right in front of her, knocking the drink out of her hands and onto the floor in a muted shatter. Her gaze followed the mysterious motion to the mess now splattered across the floor and flecked all over her shoes, confusion twisting in her face. When she looked back up, the back of a tall, black-clad man stood wedged between her and William, bearing a familiar kind of resemblance that her addled brain wasn't astute enough to pick up on just yet.

“Pardon my rude interruption.” It was that venomous voice again. That, and the all-black garb, the dark, lank hair, and the kind of attitude that gave your wits a good run for their money – it wasn't much longer before it all clicked. “But, while Miss Granger here may be oblivious to your wretched little scheme, I can assure you that I most certainly am not.”

Whatever her Potions professor was doing there made absolutely no sense to Hermione, but whatever he was going on about made even less sense. Leaning her body sideways to peer around his towering back, she looked to the man who now had a look on his face identical to the one Draco Malfoy displayed whenever trying to feign innocence to his superiors.

“Not a clue what you're going on about, mate,” William said, shaking his head with a carefree shrug of his shoulders.

“Oh?” 

Hermione recognized the all-too-familiar inflection of amusement in Snape's tone; she didn't need to see his face to imagine the smug look on it when, with a swift wave of his hand, the contents on the ground suddenly turned a violent shade of neon pink – something that Hermione was keen enough to recognize no matter what state she was in, having learned all about black market transformative drugs in her previous year. She shuddered as memories of the Polyjuice mishap in her second year flooded her mind.

“I seem to recall a two-year's sentence in Azkaban being the minimum punishment for prohibited – not to mention, non-consensual – Class X polymorphic drug administrations?”

When Hermione looked back up in shock, William's face twisted into something that made him even more comparable to the man standing directly across from him; and when Hermione expected him to start refuting the accusation in some way, he merely cursed under his breath, spun on his heel, and split the crowd aggressively in his haste to make for the exit.

For a moment, Hermione wondered if Snape would go after him. She was slightly taken aback when he instead turned sideways and swept his dark eyes down his long nose at her – the iciness in his gaze somehow reaching all the way into to her bones.

Incidentally, with intimidation tactics losing their potency in her intoxicated state, that also happened to be the moment when his overbearing appearance drew her attention back to Parvati's earlier proclamation, confirming just how uncanny the resemblance of her professor really was to the man she'd been trying to woo all night – something she could only really accept after seeing both faces back-to-back. Needless to say, it all left her feeling rather dumbfounded. Where did he even come from? Had he been there the whole time and she'd just been too preoccupied to notice?

“P – Professor...” Hermione sputtered, trying hard to concentrate on only one of the several heads of her teacher floating around in her hazy vision.

Speaking down to her in that smooth, silky voice that would send even the deadliest of creatures scattering, he said, “Miss Granger. I am not even going to begin to question why you have chosen this particular establishment to carouse in, but had you actually heeded my warning earlier this morning you might have found that it actually held some credibility. As usual, your foolishness never fails to disappoint me.”

Hermione was fresh out of ammo.

“I... I'm sorry, I didn't realize...”

“Obviously.”

Even though he continued to glower at her as though she were nothing but a concoction gone wrong, she couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude toward the man. Had it not been for him, her night would have been about to get a whole lot fuzzier. 

“Thank you, Professor,” she said, suddenly feeling as though a large cup of water had just been splashed in her face. “I should probably g – ” Choosing that inopportune moment to try and move her feet, by failing to pay any mind to the glass and liquid still littered beneath her, Hermione's attempt went horribly awry the moment her thin heel clashed with the slippery, uneven ground, knocking her whole body forward and straight into her professor. She felt his body jerk from the impact, but his hands were quick to the rescue, clasping tightly around her arms to steady her as she wriggled to find her footing.

“Sorry...” she mumbled pathetically against his chest.

“Where are your friends, Miss Granger?” he demanded, prying her off of him with an excessive amount of force to level with her face-to-face.

Her head rolled around as she tried to search for the friends in question.

“I... I dunno...”

She saw him heave a great sigh, his face twisting unpleasantly in deep consideration as it roved over her. “Come with me,” he ordered at last, returning to his full height and maintaining the hold on one of her arms as he led her away through the swirling darkness. 

Down a side door and up a set of stairs they went, Hermione stumbling gracelessly along the way, earning jerky tugs from her professor to keep her afoot. She was pretty sure his hand grazed the side of her breast at one point in his haste to catch her before a fall, but neither made a point to acknowledge it. Onward they continued, eventually reaching the top landing that stretched out into a long, dark corridor. He guided her down it toward the very end, where he stopped before one of the doors, and only then did he release his hold on her to open it. 

Extending a hand to allow her to enter first, Hermione swayed as she crossed the threshold, using the wall as a support. She heard the soft click of the door shutting behind her, and then felt a gentle nudge against her back as he led her further inside.

The moon outside shone brightly through the windows, making the need for lights unnecessary, for its pale blue hue splashed across every worn surface in the room. The walls were peeling, and the interior wasn't any less dingier than she would have expected considering the establishment, but the kitschy feel of it certainly gave it character.

“Is this your room?” she murmured dazedly, already starting to forget how they'd gotten to be there.

“It was.”

“Why?”

“Why what?” he snapped, ushering her toward the lone queen-sized bed in the middle of the room. “Be more specific, girl.”

“Why stay here when you can just go back to Hogwarts?”

He let out a tired sigh. “Contrary to what you might think, Miss Granger, students are not the only ones granted the privilege of indulging on weekends.”

Hermione plopped herself down on the bed, listening to the rusty springs protest beneath her weight, and took a moment to resume her inspection of the room before returning her attention to him. “Professor, I... Are you sure this is okay? – I mean, this is all very... very kind.”

“Do not mistake this as an act of charity, Miss Granger. You _will_ make it up to me,” he said, leaving her there on the bed as he went to fetch a glass of water from the basin on the far side of the wall.

Not wanting him to think that his generosity was something she took for granted, Hermione let out a sigh as she promptly flung off her shoes and pulled back the covers to crawl under them. Noticing then how outlandish it felt to still be wearing the dress, Hermione hooked her thumb beneath one of the straps and slipped it over her arm. She'd just started with the other side when Snape's gnarled voice made her jump.

“What the devil are you doing?!”

“I can't... The dress – ” She froze in place when she looked up and saw him storming back towards her. “It'll get crumpled...”

“For Merlin's sake, girl, have some dignity!” he growled, swatting her hand out of the way and yanking the dress strap back up over her shoulder with unnecessary force, water sloshing all over the place. “At the very least, wait until I have left the room.” He slammed the glass down on the bedside table.

When he met her watchful gaze again, the way the moonlight reflected off the sharp, defined contours of his face ignited something within her, making her feel an odd flicker of warmth despite the frigidity he exuded. It became painstakingly clear to her then that, over time, her ideal 'type' had inadvertently been shaped to emulate the very features of the man standing directly in front of her. How had she never noticed until now? Whatever she hoped to do with this new revelation, however, she did not know.

“Leave?”

From the way he held her gaze and swallowed noticeably again, Hermione would give anything to see into that brilliant mind of his, even for a second.

“Yes, Miss Granger, _leave_ ,” Snape stressed, as he turned to do just that. “The very thing you should have done when your more sensible friend Miss Weasley opted to do so.”

Hermione found herself speaking without thinking. “Oh, no – Please don't leave, Professor.” Perhaps it was the wine giving her courage, but she didn't care. In that moment, she was invincible. There were still so many unanswered questions; so many understood feelings; so many... _looks_. Looks she couldn't possibly just be imagining – she'd been getting them all day.

But Snape did not turn back around. Rolling his eyes upward to the ceiling, he said, “Give me one good reason why it would be in my best interest to stay, Miss Granger. I have given you my bed. You are safe. There is absolutely no reason for me to sit around and coddle you all night.”

Then it hit her.

“I... But this is _your_ room.”

“There are other rooms.” 

“What if I get sick?”

“All the more reason to leave.”

“I've heard of people choking to death in their sleep.”

Snape gave a loud sigh and dropped his head to pinch the bridge of his nose. The momentary pause that elapsed, however, was a clear indication that he didn't have any suitable retorts hiding up his sleeve for that one.

“And what if he comes back looking for m – ”

“Very well, Miss Granger,” Snape snapped in defeat, looking even more drained as he turned back around and crossed the room. “You will not move from that bed.” His tone was authoritative as he slumped down onto the sofa just beside the window. “The dress shall remain on.” He shot her a look of warning. “And this will be the last of which we speak until the morning.” 

He waited until she nodded in acceptance of those terms before stretching himself out along the cushions – his significantly longer legs forced to bend upwards – and clasping his eyes shut. 

“ _Good night_.”

* * *

“Mm,” Severus moaned. “Don't stop, girl,” he murmured softly, smoothing back the hair on the top of her head with his long fingers so he could see the engrossed look on her face as she bobbed up and down, taking the whole length of his cock in her warm, inviting mouth.

How surreal. He couldn't remember how it all transpired, as he was pretty sure he'd just spotted her chatting with some other lad only a second ago. Next thing he knew, he was being pushed down onto some scratchy surface and she was crawling on top of him. 

Somehow he felt drunker than he'd ever been, making him completely helpless in stopping her. Not like he had any desire to. But somewhere in the back of his mind, something told him he should.

He was so close though; and not wanting to relinquish the blissful moment just yet, clasped his eyes shut and tensed up beneath her, trying to milk the experience for all it was worth. And it sure as hell was worth a pretty Knut.

Unfortunately, his resistance proved to be more counterproductive than anything, when the caressing slowed and he felt the warmth fade away with resounding wet _pop_. When his puzzled eyes flickered back open, he was met with the girl's breath on his face, her large eyes peering wide into his.

“What is it, Miss Gr – ”

The whole world shifted out from under him then, flipped him over, and forcefully yanked him back down to the threadbare sofa that belonged only to reality – awareness hitting him like a Bludger to the head, in an extreme measure to reveal the cold, hard truth of the matter: all the vivid images still very much present in the forefront of his mind were purely a result of him having dozed off and dreamt every last one of them.

His eyes shot open at once, and if looks could kill, the way they locked on the young girl kneeling beside him surely would have done a number on her pretty little face.

“What is it you think you're doing, Miss Granger?” If his murderous stare wasn't anything to go by, his low, chilling voice would have certainly gotten the job done. At least, such would be the case with any normal person – the person in his company didn't appear to be even remotely affected.

“I – Sorry, sir. I didn't mean to wake you. I was just... admiring.”

Severus snorted. _I'll give you something to admire_ , was his initial self-indulgent thought before he bolted upright and angrily shamed himself for even having such thoughts – and _dreams_ – enter his mind. This was no time to be amused.

Redirecting his anger toward her, as he so often did, he said, “I haven't the faintest idea of what your delirious mind finds even remotely admirable, but I can assure you that I do not respond kindly to being treated as some sort of zoo animal. I try to do the honorable thing by you, and this is how you repay me?” He would have loved to go on, but that was the moment when he became horrifically aware of the discomfort at the front of his pants. 

_Dammit – think of anything else, you twat! The Dark Lord... Albus... James – Potter!_

That seemed to do the trick.

“I think you'll do well to manage on your own now,” he said, rising abruptly to his feet.

“Oh, no, please don't... I was just... Your face...” Her voice trailed off into low mumble toward the end, he nearly didn't catch it. He was about to make her wish he hadn't. 

“My face?” He could taste the acid building up on his tongue as he whirled around. “What about my face, girl?”

“Only... Well – I was just thinking that... it's actually quite nice.”

Of all the possible things he would've expected to spew out of her mouth, that certainly wasn't one of them. He knew all about the effects of alcohol blurring one's vision, but apparently in Hermione's case it went so far as to render her properly blind.

The animosity and everything else subsiding in some weird, underwhelming way, Severus silently returned his attention to the door. Why he didn't just Apparate, he did not know – perhaps a brisk walk in the cool, night air would do him some good. Perhaps he was just too tired. Perhaps it was something else.

“If that'll be all, then.”

And then came the ominous sound of shuffling from behind. 

“You know, I never even got my birthday wish.”

 _What a pity_ was all that Severus should have said to just be over and done with it. He did not know why he stopped, but some extraneous force in the universe seemed compelled to torture him that night, through not only his loins, but also his mild curiosity.

“And what wish might that possibly be?” he asked softly with an air of mock interest, risking a glance back over his shoulder to see her now standing – that damned red dress hanging on her like some sort of enchanted muleta.

“Well... You see...” She refused to meet his gaze as her hands went to work smoothing over the creases of the very garment that insisted on taunting him; the nervous biting of her lip a habit he'd come to understand meant she was struggling to find the right words. 

Perhaps he was having some sort of affect on her after all, for she appeared to rethink her motive – ultimately folding with a dismissive toss of her head, and huffing, “No, never mind, it's silly.”

Of that, Severus had no doubt. Feeling the disappointment he should've seen coming, it really should have been the final sign to simply offer a curt nod in agreement and bid her adieu. He did not know when his common sense decided to take a leave of absence without his approval.

“If it is merely a box of chocolates or bouquet of flowers you so desire, I can easily – ”

“No, it's nothing like that.” She straightened up so quickly, flapping her eyelashes as though he'd suggested something completely ridiculous. “It's just... Well, the thing is, almost everyone I know has already – um... had certain experiences that I haven't yet, and... I don't know, I suppose I was hoping that maybe today would be the day...”

From the way her eyes fell quickly again to pick at invisible imperfections on the dress, it didn't take very long for Severus to put two and two together. His mouth went dry and he felt a very large lump form in his throat at the sudden realization – not to mention elsewhere, as recent images from his dream flocked to his mind after fighting so hard to suppress them.

“Miss Granger, I was under the impression that you ought to be far above falling victim to peer pressure.”

“It's not peer pressure,” the young girl retaliated, looking to him again and shaking her head again. “I've thought about it a lot, and... I'm ready.” The adamant look on her face certainly delivered. Severus had no idea what time it was, but she certainly wasn't slurring her words or swerving all over the place like before, which meant that everything being said was with a clear head. Regardless, Severus mentally kicked himself for allowing himself to linger long enough to uncover the sort of information that he would have been more than happy remaining blissfully unaware of.

“Be that as it may, this is not something I can grant you.” With a cold brush of his shoulder, he set his sights even more firmly on the door.

“Professor, wait...”

His fingertips barely grazed the bronze handle before he felt the intrusive tug at the back of his shirt.

“Miss Gr – You – ” He spun around so quickly, and in a flash of anger clamped his hand down on the offensive wrist. “Do you have a death wish, girl?!”

He really should have known better than to turn around and face her again, standing there so close to him with her eyes wide, and nibbling on her lip in a way that made him want to smack her and devour her at the same time. He would give it to his subconscious for doing a rather fine job at accurately replicating her features. It was hard not to admire the way the soft moonlight shone on her cheeks, curved around her neck, swept along her collarbones, and dipped low into...

“See, _that_. You're doing it again – looking at me in that funny way.”

Ashamed to have been caught in the act, Severus' eyes immediately shot back up to narrow at hers in questionable denial.

“What way?” he snarled.

“Like...” She licked her lips, and he felt his heart skip a beat. “Like you want me too.”

How bold of her to make such an assumption.

“You're as delusional as ever, I see.”

Undaunted by his accusation, her moistened lips curled into a wicked smile, as if she'd just discovered the world's biggest secret.

And then she did something so unthinkably obscene – so unabashedly _Gryffindor_ – with one hand still free to roam, she reached down and rested it right over the unmistakable mound developing at the front of his trousers.

“I don't think so, Professor.” 

Curse his traitorous body to all hell.

“Enough, Miss Granger! That is completely out of order!” he snapped, outraged, as his hand shot out to yank the adventurous one away, both wrists now locked firmly in his grasp.

“Is it really? Then how do you explain that?” she asked, nodding towards the obvious contradiction. Severus felt his back make contact with the wall in his futile attempt to distance himself. This only made Hermione edge closer. “And why is it taking you so long to leave?”

He was stunned by the pure audacity, for one. And the prominent dull ache plaguing his nether regions seemed determined to cheapen his brain to the mentality of some hormonal nitwit.

“I'm warning you, girl...” he growled, eyeing the way her lips continued to glisten in the pale moonlight, and subsequently beginning to wonder whether his warnings weren't being misdirected.

“Professor,” she pleaded, looking up at him with those big, brown eyes. “It's my birthday.” As if she needed to remind him of that fact. “And it's my final year.” With both hands suspended by his, she did the only thing she could by leaning forward so her front was pressing flush against him, making the distinct bulge in his pants twitch with unwarranted anticipation.

“I won't tell anyone,” she whispered softly. Her face was so close to his now, he could feel her warm breath on his cheeks – very much like in his dream – and found himself entranced by the way her eyes sparkled in the moonlight.

Was he under a spell?

The whole world around them seemed to not exist in that moment; only the rapid beating of his heart pounded in his ears, the sight and feel of her this close to him making him so much as forget his own name.

Could he possibly still be dreaming?

Severus swallowed hard and refused to blink when she tilted her chin further upward and, ever so tentatively, grazed his ragged jawline with her soft lips. She was testing him – drawing out the journey, bristle by budding bristle, right up to his rigid mouth. For a moment, she hovered directly in front of it, waiting – teasing – while the blend of smoke and whatever floral perfume she'd doused herself in that day assaulted his nostrils. His whole body seized up in response; every carefully-constructed moral raging war against his own fundamental needs.

One cheeky little flick of her tongue against his lips later, and something within Severus snapped. No less than as if someone had just as simply flicked a light switch, the positions were reversed; where he had been previously backed up against the wall, he had flipped them around so vehemently so that she was now the one pinned up against it – his hands still gripping tightly around her wrists as he restrained them against the tawdry wallpaper. His mouth was upon hers in an instant – her own lips responding quickly and matching his hunger as they slid open and welcomed him in. The taste of stale alcohol lingered on her tongue, mixing sinfully with his own, and for some reason Severus found it all the more tantalising. 

A million and one warning signals proceeded to ring out in his head, shooting off all at once like one of the Weasley twins' infamous firework displays; but Severus found himself unable to care about anything other than the sensuous little witch, with her greedy little mouth and her delectable little body that he was pressed up against.

How dare she walk around wearing that provocative dress, Severus thought, as he felt the friction of his own shirt rubbing against it over her modest curves. To think that he was now granted the permission to do whatever he wanted – future consequences set aside – he relinquished one of her wrists and hooked his fingers into the strap of her dress that was already wilting precariously. Not needing much help, he yanked the material down with a swift tug, exposing a round, perky breast that he seized immediately between his long, curved fingers. Severus interrupted the kiss only then to steal a downward peek at the taut nipple as he stroked over it with his thumb. How dare she be so fucking beautiful on top of her brilliance, of all else. It was a crime.

Really, what more could a man like Severus want?

He had no idea what he'd done to deserve such luck. While he'd been busy observing the girl getting snared from across the crowded room, had someone gone and slipped Felix Felicis into his own drink? When he booked himself a room earlier that same evening in hopes of a night of noncommittal intimacy, he never would have expected it to be with the very individual who had gotten him so hot and bothered in the first place.

Tearing him away from his little moment of reverence, he nearly buckled when he felt her released hand reposition itself to the back of his head, gripping at his hair and pulling him back into the kiss, deepening it with a need of her own. The strain in his pants throbbed angrily as it ground against the soft nook between her thighs, threatening to take over.

Having always been the type to set his marshmallows on fire instead of roasting them slowly over a gentle flame anyway, Severus gave into impulse – releasing her other hand, his own hands dove down and made quick work of undoing the fastening on his trousers. He was mildly surprised by Hermione's lack of hesitation as she also reached down to help lower them, soon relieving him of that confined pressure. Only then was Hermione the one to pull away from the kiss, her chest heaving as her eyes lowered to ogle at the sight – a Gryffindor's curious nature never forsaken, even in the heat of the moment.

And then, daringly, her fingers moved to explore him ever so lightly. Too lightly. What felt like little sparks of electricity trickled through him from the tips of her fingers, making him inhale sharply. How long had it been since he'd been touched in such a way? Most times he'd been too drunk to remember, but he could say with absolute certainty that those ephemeral moments never came dressed with such tenderness. If he hadn't spotted the girl when he did, his night would have been bound to go down a very similar path.

His breath shook as he released it slowly, his dark eyes watched her curious expression with amusement, that tingling sensation from her touch growing all the more stronger. 

Fully prepared to take what was being offered to him despite all repercussions, his patience was reaching its limit. He needed her now.

With a firm hand, he gripped her jaw and spread his fingers across her cheek as he jerked her head back up against the wall, crushing his lips to her again. Moving her hand out of the way with his other, he pushed the hem of her dress all the way up – crumpled dress be damned – and yanked her knickers down with feverish aggression.

The final obstructive article now at the base of her ankles and out of the way, Severus slipped his hand between the narrow gap in her thighs and cupped his hand over the curve of her femininity, his middle finger dipping assertively into the entrance to test if she was really as ready as she claimed to be.

A small noise emitted from the back of her throat from his invasive touch, and he could feel her clench up against him. Tearing away from the kiss and pressing his forehead to hers, his dark, glazed eyes glanced down at her slightly trembling lips; but his finger, now satisfactorily coated, was the only indication he needed.

Sliding his finger back out and relocating it to her hip, while the other curled around her thigh to hoist it up against his waist, Severus took a quick second to align himself and feel around for her entrance again with the tip of his cock. 

“Um – ”

Whatever she'd wanted to say could wait. He could not. With his pointed fingertips digging into her soft skin, he kept her locked firmly in place as he struggled to squeeze himself in – her warm walls contracting tightly around his length.

The satisfied groan that escaped him upon total submersion was overshadowed by the raspy, high-pitched gasp that came from Hermione, her head knocking backwards against the wall with a light _thud_ as her hands sunk painfully into his shoulders.

For a second, Severus didn't dare move. After initially closing his eyes upon penetration, they shot open again to examine the look on her face. Her eyebrows were furrowed and she had her lower lip clenched hard between her teeth – a look that he would have absolutely no problem inflicting on a stranger, but it was seeing it on this individual in particular that seemed to cross some sort of line that he didn't know existed.

However, the ship to turn back had already sailed.

Gritting his teeth, Severus cursed under his breath and used every little ounce of self-control he had to slip himself back out, feeling her clench up again as a soft whimper fluttered from her lips.

The moment the warmth escaped him, her vice-like grip on him slackened and he could see through her puffy expression and the long, deep breaths that she was trying her best to put on a brave face.

“Come,” he growled, releasing her leg and gripping her upper arm hastily as he dragged her over to the bed. 

He heard the mattress produce a loud squeak as he spread out onto his back. Pulling her on top of him, he helped guide her into a position where she was comfortably straddling his hips.

“Take your time,” he said as patiently as his impatience would allow, staring directly up into the eyes that had lost a bit of their fire. With his long fingers stretching out over her bent legs, he made a conscious effort to be more gentle as his thumbs glided over the delicate skin of her inner thighs. At this point, the last thing he wanted was her second-guessing the very thing that _she_ had requested and leaving him high and dry.

With a brave nod, and nibbling at her lip again, Hermione wriggled on top of him, adjusting her position so that the tip of his cock nestled just against the surface of her folds. He felt that same tingling sensation run through him again as every blood vessel proceeded to pump aggressively toward his erection.

Ever so gingerly, she lowered herself, taking her time to ease the length inside her at her own pace, stopping every so often to slide back out. What was probably only a minute or so felt like several to Severus every time she dipped back in, gradually dropping a little lower with every plunge. His fingers subconsciously squeezed tighter around her legs as she went through the motions. With his eyelids snapped shut and his breath staggered, he was teetering on the edge of euphoria.

It was as she finally descended upon him to the point where he felt her bottom clap against his flattened front that Severus let out a deep groan of pleasure. When she started to slide back up again, he pulled harder on her thighs to force her back down with a more pronounced clap, taking a moment to savour the fullness of himself inside her. 

Opening his eyes again, he reached for her arm and pulled her down towards him. “Come here,” he ordered, snaking his other hand around the back of her head once she was fully bent over, and crushing her lips to his. 

From there, with his cock still inflated inside her, he began to rock his hips ever so gently at first. She let out little moans as he prolonged the kiss – his thrusts growing gradually in speed and rhythm. He felt her tightness begin to slacken as the moisture increased, making sliding in and out of her profoundly easier. With her body finally learning how to relax again, she found her hands and dove them into his hair – their kisses growing messier on account of the increase in momentum as her whole body bounced vigorously in tune with his pounding thrusts.

She felt too damn good, better than he would never admit he'd imagined. He was already nearing his limit, and could only gain so much from that position. Snaking a hand around to her back, he heaved himself up and rolled them both over, so that he now had her pinned down against the covers.

Hermione let out a startled gasp when he drove himself, unannounced, straight back into her, picking the flow up right where he left off, only with better access and control.

“Professor...” she moaned breathlessly, her fingers sliding forward over his shoulders and sinking into his back. His half-lidded gaze darkened as it roved over her.

“Don't call me that,” he snarled in between quick, shallow breaths.

“Okay,” she rasped. “Severus – ”

Severus let out an undignified grunt as he plunged himself so hard and deep into her, earning a high-pitched shriek in response. The burning pain in his back went ignored as her nails consequently dug deeper into his skin with every amplified thrust that followed. Something about hearing his name uttered in such state of passion set off something within him like a hot spark, making him snap free of the last little bit of control he'd been stringing along.

“ _Oh – My – God –_ ”

Severus watched as Hermione barely squeezed the words out, her flushed face contorted with so much emotion as she rocked harshly beneath him. The line between pleasure and pain was blurred by that point, for the sight and feel of her only jerked his primal instincts into overdrive, making his starved cock swell painfully as it pumped faster and faster into her – the sharp little cries from her lips ringing through his ears. 

“Sev – Er – AH!” 

Severus' hand clasped over her cheek to steady her as he reached his peak and burst hotly inside her with a final few quick, stiff thrusts, welcoming the powerful influx of pleasure that sparked through every nerve point in his body.

Hermione would've made a banshee proud with the shriek she produced as her head flew backwards and her whole body arched beneath him, her nails digging so deep into his back that he was sure to be bleeding. The telltale sign of convulsions throbbing all around his length couldn't help the satisfied smirk that teased at the corner of his lips as he rolled to a gentle stop, drinking in every twitch of her body with delight. 

With the flow subsiding, and both panting heavily and drained in the aftermath, Severus closed his eyes and dropped his slick forehead to hers, continuing to savour the tingling sensation that had spread from his spent self still nestled inside her.

“Fuckin' hell, Hermione...” he murmured against her lips, grazing them lightly before relinquishing his last little bit of strength and letting his face slide down to the nook in her shoulder, collapsing half on top of her. 

His senses were once again immersed in the potpourri of smoke, flowers, and now the very essence of her, and he found himself breathing it in deeply, almost fondly. For a while, only the steadying sound and rhythm of their breathing passed between them, the mere peacefulness of it threatening to tempt him into slumber.

And then a small, faint noise escaped her lips as her chest rattled against him – an indistinguishable disturbance that could've been easily misconstrued as either giggling or crying.

Fearing the latter, he lifted his head up to examine her. “Are you – ”

But all worry was wiped away the moment he caught the wide grin plastered on her flushed face, making his eyelids droop wearily. 

“Do I even want to know what you find so amusing?” he drawled.

“You called me Hermione,” she said, her insufferable smile growing impossibly wider.

Severus sighed and let his head slump back down against her shoulder. 

So he did. 

“Don't go getting used to it, girl,” he muttered quietly.

In the soft spell of silence that followed, Severus' one eye not burrowed into her neck peered over at the window, where he noticed the faint blue light of dawn just beginning to form a gradient in the sky. So it was actually much later than he'd originally thought. That was when the dread started trickling in, realizing the weight of what he'd just done and whether he ought to just get up now and – 

Hermione stirred slightly against him, breaking Severus out of his train of thought.

“Thank you, Severus,” she whispered softly.

As unexpected as it was to hear those three words, what was even more unexpected was the sudden touch of her fingertips as she started combing them through his slick hair.

Severus felt a shiver roll down his spine. If she wasn't repulsed by him before, how she possibly couldn't be repulsed now was beyond him. He was at a complete loss. Yet, at the same time, an unfamiliar wave of comfort washed over him, cancelling out whatever previous desire he had to leave. What more was a few minutes anyway?

 _Don't go getting used to it, Severus_ , he chided himself.

“So, when's _your_ birthday?”


End file.
